Hi there, I’m Patty. At 90 years old, I can say with absolute certainty that I’ve lived a wonderful and fulfilling life. I’ve had my share of ups and downs, but the joys have far outweighed the sorrows. Since my husband passed away a few years back, my daughter Angie and I have spent most of our time together. Her companionship has filled the empty spaces in my life since I became a widow. So, as my ninetieth birthday approached, I was genuinely excited.

Angie promised she would visit, bringing along my grandchildren. I looked forward to hearing their laughter and seeing their bright faces. Just thinking about them fills me with joy. They remind me so much of Angie when she was a little girl—those sparkling eyes, the way they smile. It’s as if time rewinds itself whenever they’re around.

Their father, John, is someone I still hold dear. He and Angie divorced some time ago, but to me, John has always been like the son I never had. He was kind, warm-hearted, and considerate. Even after all these years and their separation, John never forgot about me. Every Christmas, without fail, I receive a card from him. Deep down, I had always hoped John and Angie would find their way back to each other. But life doesn’t always follow the script we hope for.

The morning of my birthday arrived, and I was buzzing with excitement. I kept glancing at the clock, imagining the knock at the door, the sound of my grandchildren running up the steps, and Angie’s familiar voice calling out, “Mom, we’re here!”

But as the morning turned to afternoon, I began to worry. Angie hadn’t called, and my messages went unanswered. I tried phoning her multiple times. Each call went straight to voicemail. I told myself she was probably driving, but as the minutes dragged on, that little spark of hope began to dim. It dawned on me that I might spend this special day alone, just like so many others in recent years.

I was just about to accept the disappointment when the doorbell rang. If my knees were stronger, I would have jumped for joy. I made my way to the door as quickly as I could. But instead of Angie and the kids, I saw a tall figure standing there. When I opened the door, my heart filled with warmth.

It was John, holding a bouquet of flowers and some brightly wrapped presents. “Happy Birthday, Mom!” he said with a grin that could light up a room.

“John! You didn’t have to do this!” I exclaimed, both surprised and delighted.

“It’s just a small token for your special day,” he replied, handing me the gifts. One of them was my favorite dark chocolate. “You remembered,” I said with tears welling up in my eyes.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “It’s all you ever eat.”

I invited him in without a second thought. “Stay for supper?” I offered. “I’m making apple pie.”

“Apple pie? You should’ve led with that,” John joked as he stepped inside.

The afternoon turned into evening, and it felt like old times. John, just like my late husband, was an excellent cook. He helped prepare dinner, and for the first time in a while, the house felt warm and full of life again.

As we sat down to eat, John gently asked, “Will Angie and the kids be joining us later? I hope I’m not intruding.”

I sighed. “No, John. They won’t be coming today.”

“That’s a shame. You shouldn’t have to spend your birthday alone,” he said.

“I’m not alone anymore,” I replied, squeezing his hand. “Thanks to you.”

But John wasn’t ready to let things go. “Why didn’t Angie come? She loves spending time with you. The kids do too.”

I explained that Angie hadn’t answered my calls and I didn’t know what had happened. Concerned, John picked up his phone and called her himself. To our surprise, she picked up.

Later, John shared the truth with me. Angie had gone on vacation with her new boyfriend and had taken the kids with her. She hadn’t told anyone, not even me.

“Vacation?” I repeated in disbelief. “She didn’t say a word to anyone?”

John shook his head. “Nope. They’ve been planning it for a month.”

I was stunned. “I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.”

“Neither did I,” John sighed. “But this? Taking the kids and leaving you alone on your birthday? That’s too much.”

He was right. I felt disappointed and deeply hurt. Angie could have at least told me she wouldn’t be able to come. Later, when I finally spoke to her, she apologized and promised to bring the kids soon. But the damage had been done. Something inside me shifted that day.

I’m grateful John was there to soften the blow, but I’m still left wondering how to trust Angie again. A mother’s love is unconditional, but trust—once broken—is hard to rebuild.

Now, I’m left asking myself: What should I do next?